


Informally Inclined

by Pluviona



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Angst, Dr. Reader, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gore but it's not too bad, Horror, Mystery, SCPs don't know how to relationship, Slight SCP-035 and reader if you squint hard enough, Slight possessive behavior, Slow Burn, Suspense, There's some cute scenes but that's about it, Violence, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20221018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluviona/pseuds/Pluviona
Summary: Amused, he gave into a low, rugged laugh “a patient? Is that what you view me as, doctor?”Despite being seated, his tall, cloaked figure surpassed her tremendously, to the point where she had to crane her neck upwards to make contact with his cold, striking eyes. They bore back at her beyond his pristine white mask, radiant and smooth under the fluorescent lights. His gaze was heavy, merciless, and focused on nothing else other than her. The pen she had been holding so snugly between her fingers now quivered against the blank sheet of lined paper. It was then that she realized, she’d have to choose her next words very carefully.





	Informally Inclined

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my very first fanfiction on here! Constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated. Thank you for stopping by and I hope to see you in later chapters (or works!)
> 
> Additional Note: More tags and characters will be added as the story progresses.
> 
> Important: This story will also be posted under my Quotev account @.Pluviona if you find this work in any other website or under a different account please notify me immediately.

SCP: Foundation Site-50

Date: July 5th, [REDACTED]

Location: Northern America

  
It never got easier.

“Oh God, please! Help me! _Please_!”

Those sharp, painful cries fell on deaf ears. Even hours after the initial confrontation, his absolute terror would only continue to live within recordings and in scared memories. While she pitied his unfortunate end, it was pointless to step in and help-- there was nothing she could have changed now, other than demote herself and take his place.

“Please!” he threw himself against the transparent barrier, desperation and fear thick in his voice. “I’ll-- I’ll stop! I swear I’ll stop! Just save me!” his fist pounded against the dense glass, it did nothing to leave behind even the slightest scratch, however, the surface quickly became deluded in a thick red smudge.

Only a few feet behind him, a muscular quadruped beast at roughly 2.1 meters in height circled the D-Class. Its body resembled mainly that of a dog with a long, dark shaggy coat and otherwise unmistakable paws. What made the entity so different from a regular canine was a pair of spider-like jaws that replaced that kissable snout.

SCP-[Redacted] lounged forward and snagged D-9130’s ankle, throwing his entire body from side to side as if it were nothing more than a ragdoll. Another agonizing scream followed the solid snap of his bones-- and though the prisoner thrashed helplessly around and attempted to harm the entity with his hands, it was all moot. He had previously escaped the SCPS grasp only by kicking in the bridge between his eyes and jaw for a solid ten minutes, however, during that time, his other leg had been completely consumed.

Now all that remained of his lower waist was a wriggling stump draining what was left of his blood. D-9130 clawed at whatever was in range, from the SCP’s long strands of grungy, filth clumped hair to its many dark beady eyes that glossed over in a natural clear membrane serving to protect its vision. SCP-[Redacted], seemingly unbothered, continued to chew on the flesh caught between its hook-like jaws, making quick work of the prisoner’s other leg.

(Y/n) furrowed her brows and took a moment to look away from the scene before her, somewhat glad to rest her eyes. However, like the rest of the research team surrounding her, this small break was only to jot down quick observational notes.

“Notes:  
\- SCP-[Redacted] following typical meal behavior, however, seems to enjoy toying with the victim by tossing around the body and pushing the individual in various directions with its paws.  
\- Signs of gratitude are possible.”

She looked up again, SCP-[Redacted] had made surprisingly quick work of the man's legs. Having already consumed the majority of D-9130’s lower half and struggling to chew past the large heap of bone that was his knee. What was remaining of it looked like a disfigured baseball. His screaming slowly began to quiet down into muffled, gargled whimpers as his hands landed loosely at his sides. It wouldn’t be long now, (Y/n) hoped.

An assistant gagged behind her.

“I can’t--” he covered his mouth, tears welling his eyes “I just... I-” he glanced at (Y/n), she could only respond with a firm nod. That was the only confirmation he needed, pulling out his keycard with haste, the assistant made a straight dash out of the room. (Y/n) turned back to the scenario before her, this time with a frown.

As expected, the D-class personnel had fortunately met his end. His body limp and flexible as SCP-[Redacted] continued to paw his lifeless body, leaving behind a trail of thinning blood as he rolled from one corner of the wall to another. It was difficult to see, but after years of exposure, she maintained an observation. Eventually, the SCP item grew bored, flipping the man over on his stomach, placing its paw firmly against his center back before hovering its expanding fangs over his head. Swiftly, it punctured the sides of the neck proceeding to tug wiggle, and roll the head until skin and muscle slowly pulled apart and broke away. There was only the snap, crackle and pop of former ligaments inside the chamber. Leaving yet another source of that pooling crimson.

With that SCP-[Redacted] seemed content, carrying the dripping head back to what is considered to be its resting corner.

Sighing, (Y/n) wrote down the rest of her notes. Taking a moment to recollect her bearings, she rubbed her eyes from the gruesome images she was forced to observe. Usually, she never drank excessively, especially when she knew she’d be clocking in tomorrow morning for work. However, tonight might be an occasion for a couple glasses of whiskey-- which was code for finishing the bottle.

“That completes psychological observation of SCP-[Redacted]. Time, 23:40. Further research and full report to be conducted at a later date” pressing the “stop” symbol on the recording device, Dr. Worthington ran her fingers through her short, curled hair.

“Alright...” Dr. Worthington began, addressing the remaining researchers who have somehow managed to stomach the experiment “I want a detailed synopsis on my desk by tomorrow evening, trust me, you want it done. And,” she gestured towards the corpse on the other side of the room “someone get that cleaned up, it won’t be eating the rest of it. Dismissed.”

A large wave of relief settled through the room, easing all the previously stiff bodies. One by one, the researchers and a few assistants left the room, their faces pale and drained of any further expression. The dark bags growing under their puffy eyes was only evidence of the sheer exhaustion suffered.

The armed personnel, however, remained to load their rifles and prepare to sedate the beast. Their work was not yet finished. Fortunately, whatever was in the black, toxic gas seemed to work wonders on this particular SCP. But as rotten luck would have it, the gas chambers were currently being investigated for a malfunction that directed the gas through the wrong air-vents. In other words, the guards had to go in and manually fire at the SCP.

(Y/n) found herself hoping the speed of their reflexes was good enough.

“Shouldn’t you be packing, Dr. (L/n)?” Worthington once again continued writing in her notepad. More than likely filling in details or placing in theories she previously hadn’t had the time to do.

Stuffing the pen in her coat pocket, (Y/n) swallowed thickly “I’m... Waiting for Assistant Lee to return, Ma’am.” he had left behind his notes and a thick stack of files, it was his responsibility to come back for them. However, when he does, (Y/n) wanted to be sure he was alright-- well, as alright as one can be considering the circumstance. While she had already been tainted with the horrors, Lee was still a wee, innocent lamb.

Shaking her head, Worthington kissed her teeth “he isn’t a baby, Dr. (L/n). You coddle him too much.”

(Y/n) expected that response. Regardless of her opposing opinion, she laughed “I’m almost scared to leave him here with you-”

An armed guard approached them, “hate to interrupt” his rifle rested lazily against the crook of his arm, either in exhaustion or impatience. (Y/n) assumed possibly both, “my soldiers are ready to sedate SCP-[Redacted]. We need you to vacate the room in case of... Incidents.”

Worthington sighed, “I figured, we’ll be out of your way” she clicked the end of her pen, with long strides over to the steel door, she slid her key card through the security device “walk with me, (L/n).”

On normal circumstances, “walk with me” more than often suggested that somehow you had dug yourself into some pretty deep shit and always resulted in some sort of disciplinary action. However, as (Y/n) left her notes of today’s experiment with Lees pile (he would need it more anyway) and rose from the uncomfortable chair, she found herself unbothered, walking briskly alongside her Senior Researcher with ease.

There was only the softest buzz of life within the hallways. Stationed guards chatted among themselves as they passed through other containment zones, she imagined it must have been difficult standing in one designated place for hours on end. A few other soldiers patrolled the hallways per protocol. A couple of researchers from multiple fields passed by, either too invested with whatever they had in their hands or acknowledging one another with an awkward smile. Sometimes newer recruits followed behind them like lost puppies-- it was cute.

“You know, if you stayed around a little longer, I could promote you to Senior Researcher” Worthington tempted.

(Y/n) would reach that position in a couple more years despite site location. Not that it was any sort of achievement, but the additional numbers to her paycheck would be nice.

“The Site Directors made this transfer, Site-42 needs a psychologist on their field so... Here I go.” (Y/n) responded, not quite sure where they were heading but following her superior nonetheless.

Smooth, glossy concrete was the only platform beneath her feet. It echoed terribly with each step and more than often radiated of menace. Though at times the flooring swapped to blinding white tiles when entering certain rooms. Which in the end was no better. Arches crafted out of steel caved around them like a tunnel, leaving the spacious area around them to feel smaller than it really is. Clearly, the foundation took zero pride in comfort, this was a prison after all.

Wearing heels of any sort was practically a death-trap with the high risk of tripping over the iron railings or worse, crashing onto the one many heavy pieces of machinery... It had happened before. An assistant had only been there to switch on a generator, the poor girl wounded up causing an electrical shortage. It also went without say that ill-fitting shoes were strictly out of dress-code.

“I suppose it can’t be helped then” Worthington rounded a corner. Truthfully, while it was difficult letting her pupil go, picking a fight with Site Directors was worthless at best. Their final verdict was just that, final.  
  
Pale bleak walls and near-identical hallways made new-comers and even experienced employees severely confused at times, (Y/n) had her fair share of wandering helplessly through the seemingly endless maze. The only real way to differentiate the passing corridors was to be hyper-aware of your surroundings: Where was that tacky poster pinned? How far were the archways? Which SCP containment was next to the restrooms? It was all essential to mapping out where the hell you were.

“What did you think of the experiment?” Worthington inquired if anything more curious as to where her thoughts were.

_Cruel. Disgusting. Inhumane._ (Y/n) so desperately wanted to reply. But she knew better now.

“I’ve come to believe that SCP-[Redacted] showed signs of playful behavior...” (Y/n) hesitated, recalling how it so effortlessly tore off the prisoners' head. “Almost as if it was playing directly with us, in a way” bile began to rise as her voice gently faded off into the silent air, thankfully (Y/n) managed to swallow the sudden wave of sickness.

“Interesting,” Worthington hummed. “I’d like to see a full report.”

(Y/n) didn’t respond. She had only been there for Lee, naturally, however, to even be in proximity of the experiment, she had to have some sort of relevance, hence her slight psychic analysis.

Yet the young doctor so vividly remembered keeping herself up during late-nights exploring her analysis, asking questions, listening to recorded tapes over and over again until her report came back satisfactory. It was then that her blood-stream became deluded in anything containing caffeine that she could hardly function without it. This type of behavior is what got her so far up the food-chain so quickly, but it cost her...

Once the duo came to the end of the hall, (Y/n) called for the elevator. And despite there being, many, many levels of the underground facility, service usually only took about one to two minutes at the very best. Which was something she highly appreciated. However, the sudden empty silence between them made that single minute excruciating.

“So...” (Y/n) began, glancing at the tall curly-haired woman to her left “where are we heading to?”

Her response was short and immediate “my office.”

Again, in normal circumstances. That particular answer would be followed by dread, but as they both stood and waited for the elevator to come by, (Y/n) was curious more than anything else.

There was a soft ding before the two metal doors slid open. Eagerly, they stepped inside. There was nothing remotely special about the elevator. Just a large cube of silver metal with rows and columns of buttons, all representing a different level, naturally. Worthington selected the fourth button.

The ride would take another minute, it was better to risk small-talk.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” words of insurance “why are we going to your office?”

Worthington hummed, “professionally? We’re going to be discussing your preference of transportation” there was no need for that conversation, (Y/n) had already agreed to travel by via land.

Before she could clarify, Worthington continued “Unprofessionally, however, I have a staff meeting in the morning and I will not have the time to see you off, so I hope a couple glasses of aged wine will be a reasonable goodbye” there was the softest smile on her lips as she watched the floor count steady increase.

“Drinking on the job, isn’t that large violation, Dr. Worthington?” (Y/n) teased with a chime in her voice.

“Please,” she scoffed, keeping her hands folded neatly around her clipboard “my shift was supposed to end hours ago, and technically, so did yours.”

“Well, I guess you could say I’m convinced” (Y/n) turned to her, this time with a full smile.

* * *

To say that (Y/n) missed the sun was a vast understatement.

She had completely craved the warmth that came from a bright, sunny day. So much so, that when she ascended from the deepest layers of Hell with florescent lighting and constant frigid air, she eagerly anticipated for the large, towering gates to slowly open on command. It was the only solid material left that stood in the way of her and the outside world. Well-- that and the massive wave of security escorting her off the premises.

She didn’t bother hiding the tears that quickly pooled in her eyes as her skin touched the natural light. Breathing in delicate, crispy air. Listening to the birds sing and appreciate the immense chill of the mountains claiming the skies. Part of her wanted to believe that it was the harsh, sudden adjustment that made every insignificant detail seem genuinely important. Or rather, it was saying goodbye to close friends knowing it was more than likely the last she’d see of them that had her so emotional.

In reality, hot, salty tears slid down the soft curves of her face because for once she felt free. The weight of constant death and horror, at last, being lifted from her chest, even if it was only for three days.

And oh, were those three days _absolutely_ wonderful.

It was only her, a loop of musicals blasting in the radio, and Site-50 in her rear-view mirror.

Not a second of the open road was taking for granted, driving past the dense woodlands and the small, sleepy towns that were surrounded by them. In the mornings she rolled down her windows and allowed fog to fill her lungs, only stopping once to get her morning coffee and a doughnut, during the afternoons (Y/n) took a break at diners and filled her stomach with warm, full meals. (Y/n) would have enjoyed nothing more than to take a detour, passing by small antique shops or making a spontaneous purchase to feed her hobbies. However, a strict deadline waited for her even if a local carnival tempted her time. During the evenings, by far the best with the additional con of suffocating, humid air that had her sweating in a thin tank-top. She pulled her car to the side and made calls to her loved ones whilst peering up into the inky, white-freckled sky that she had failed to appreciate enough. With a heavy heart, (Y/n) dialed the list of those who mattered most to her, crying silently on the other end as they excitingly babbled on with what she had missed. _“When are you coming to visit?”_ was a common question, and (Y/n) could only respond _“maybe during the holidays.”_

It was a profound lie they both knew. And it was during such tender moments where the young doctor now sat in silence and contemplated placing in her two weeks-- before she missed another wedding, before she failed to attend baby-showers or sway around in parties, meet someone, and spend the holidays with those she genuinely cared about. Before something ate her alive and lose the chance to even say goodbye...

In the brink of dawn, after a couple hours of sleep. (Y/n) would refill her gas, pay for a large cup of coffee and a doughnut, roll down her windows, and continue down the long, busy road.

As the third day came, the feeling of freedom slowly declined. The young doctor made the most of her remaining time as much as possible, satisfying any reasonable want or need if given the opportunity. Yet, the Foundation GPS still lead her down unmarked paths tucked away from the busy interstate until the cars that had once traveled by her all disappeared, towns became less and less frequent until all that remained was sketchy, isolated gas stations. (Y/n) assumed they were run by field agents, no doubt.

Paved landscape eventually bled into a wild, nature-regulated biome. The scenery just as gorgeous filled with live animals, a thick array of spruce trees guarding the intense, uneven hillsides that more than often lead the hardly noticeable dirt road in a smooth ride filled with wide loops and steep, sudden dips. Sharp, towering cliffs filled with diverse vegetation of moss, avians, and rogue trees were a gentle reminder of how powerful and break-taking nature could have continued to be without human intervention.

If there was anything the doctor applauded the Foundation for, it had to be their locations. Discrete yet beautiful. It was a shame that such a place had to be tucked away from the world, then again, perhaps it was for the best.

The dirt road turned out to be longer than what (Y/n) had expected, resulting in a full 30 minute drive through the dark woods before she even caught sight of the bleak white building. Just an hour ago the sky had melted into a blend of warm, gentle colors. From a passionate orange to a tangy pink, and the remaining sunlight-- the last of what she’d see for another few years, cast a near-mystical glow upon the evergreens. Now, she was squinting through the darkness with bright headlights.

(Y/n) slowed down her car into a gentle stop as she neared the electrical fence secured with barbed wires. Almost immediately, two armed guards left their posts and began approaching her vehicle, it was ridiculous not to expect a security check but (Y/n) found herself hoping that it wouldn’t take too long. Her eyes are quickly became strained from watching the road and her ass was numb from the hours she spent seated.

The guard tapped on her window, (Y/n) didn’t hesitate to roll down the glass.

“Name. Identification. and status” he demanded.

“Uhh,” (Y/n) reached over in the glove department, “just a moment” she tugged the handle and snatched her Foundation ID and the transportation note-- something she had stressed profoundly in not losing or damaging. She handed it off to the guard.

He skimmed over the official document briefly, focusing his attention on the ID “name, identification, and status” he repeated.

“Dr. (L/n) (Y/n), ID number 4351, I’m in the research field as a psychologist” truly, there was no reason for the nervous pitch in her throat to become apparent, it wasn’t as if she had somehow got her hands on a faux ID card or forged a note. But the heavy weaponry resting so lazily on their arms caused her palms beginning to clam.

The guard reached over to his earpiece and spoke into the device “confirming transportation request from Site-50 for a Dr. (L/n), Identification Number 4351” there was a small pause before he nodded to the other personnel.

“Your credentials have been confirmed. Please step out of the vehicle while we do a mandatory search” another demand as he passed your belongings back through the window, (Y/n) desperately hoped this would be the last line of security.

Leaning back against the side of her parked car, (Y/n) rubbed the tender skin shading underneath her eyes. A killer combination of driving alone and almost sleepless nights had done quite the damage, but it wasn’t anything an actual bed wouldn’t fix. So as the two armed guards searched briefly through her boxes of items and a duffle bag full of clothes, the young doctor stared up into the soft, glittery mess that was the stars. Watching how they shined against the surprisingly comforting darkness that surrounded them. It would be a long while before she saw them again, so as the guards announced their completion of the search, (Y/n) bid the moon a soft, hesitant goodbye.

* * *

“Hi and welcome to the Site-42, my name is Samantha Baines and I’ll be one of your on-team assistant personnel.”

Although it was extremely odd to welcome others into the SCP Foundation, (Y/n) appreciated the surprising hospitality. Generally, the only welcoming warmth newer employees received was the trainee informational video, a mandatory watch that went over basic rules, guidelines, and “safety” precautions to follow. After a month, most newcomers would turn in their two weeks and be given amnesiac medication.

It was for that reason that the facility currently found itself understaffed and began distributing four-year-long contracts. At the very least. (Y/n)’s heart ached for unsuspecting people who signed on the dotted line all because the numbers looked appealing, it was her at some point too.

“Thank you,” (Y/n) smiled softly, glancing around briefly, she noticed there was no other individual besides Baines, “I’m Dr. (L/n) and I don’t mean to sound rude but-- would it be alright if I settled in for the night?”

Baines gasped softly, “oh no of course!” there was a clipboard in her hands that she held tightly to her chest “please, follow me.”

Relieved, the young doctor switched her duffle bag to her other hand, sparing herself from possible blood circulation loss. The bag, despite being loaded with her clothes, was considerably heavy and (Y/n) found herself placing the bag down briefly, wiggling her fingers, shaking her wrist, and massaging her hand for a good second before picking it back up again. This became especially true when she followed the Assistant up the large staircase and into an open, bleak white room with colorless tiles and smooth, plain walls.

First impressions told (Y/n) that Site-42 was surprisingly clean and well-kept. Much different than Site-50 with otherwise careless security, various items were constantly left all about the facility, and functioning issues such as electrical failures. This was a change she fully embraced.

Baines called for the elevator, “we’ll be going down to floor two, it’s where staff rest and take their breaks in the cafeteria.”

“Oh, I see” the young doctor didn’t mean to sound so detached, she was genuinely listening, only her eyes took the time to roam about the room. While there was nothing pleasing to look at in terms of decor, the large, dome-like archway above their heads was fairly impressive. Steel railings guarded her sides, giving into temptation and peering over the edge. Hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The drop was rather... Deep.

There was a soft ding, the solid metal doors slowly slid open. Other foundation members flooded out of the elevator without giving them another spare glance, caught up in their own world. The duo made their way in as the door closed. Nothing caught (Y/n)’s attention more than the few buttons on the control panel. Site-50 had rows and even columns of levels, all of which had a different, specific purpose. It had never occurred to (Y/n) that she’d be living so close to the surface-- she didn’t comment on this fact, realizing how strange or awkward it might sound.

Another small ring before the doors opened. (Y/n) appreciated the short ride.

She followed the Assistant out into the hall, glancing around as she did so... There wasn’t much to look at, the same white, stone tiles were kept clean and the soft shading on smooth walls was practically bare and the high ceiling made her feel rather intimidated. Occasional posters placed by the SCP Foundation. She couldn’t currently read them as Assistant Baines legs were swifter than they appeared, but she could only assume they were protocol reminders. Powerful bright lighting gave her the ability to see further down the hall, rooms were packed rather closely together and aligned symmetrically across the halls.

“They _really_ like the color white, don’t they?” (Y/n) spoke softly, almost afraid of the possible echo.

Baines giggled softly, “oh yeah” she glanced back at the young doctor, thankful the silence has been broken “sometimes it makes me think I’m at a hospital.”

It certainly looked the part.

“Okay! Here we are, room 110” Baines glanced at her clipboard, making a sudden stop in front of a slender, steel doorway. The Foundation logo obnoxiously printed on the door with dark ink. A small navy blue sign above the door-frame reading that exact number, that was possibly the most colorful thing (Y/n) has seen so far.

“You’ve been issued a new ID, you can open your door by sliding the chip through the lock” Baines held out the clipboard, (Y/n) took it from her gently.

“Oh... Thank you! Do you know when I start?”

The assistant nodded with a soft smile, “technically, tomorrow-- Dr. Sherman expects you in his office at 8 AM, he’s given you a couple SCP files he wants you to know beforehand” she gestured over to the clipboard with her index finger “but I might be able to give you a small orientation.”

(Y/n) smiled, the gesture was sweet and it made her heart warm. Genuinely, she couldn’t imagine how any Foundation would function correctly without Assistants.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you’re busy-- I’ll manage somehow, thank you” the young doctor figured, if she could recognize Site-50’s interior like the back of her hand, then this would be no problem.

“Well... If you change your mind, I’m happy to show you around. I’ll get going and let you settle in, have a good night, Doctor!”

“Yup, you too!”

Baines walked away at her same brisk pace. It was refreshing to see that kind personnel still exist.

Unclipping her new ID from the metal clasp, (Y/n) placed the chip into the reader and with a small green dot of confirmation, the door opened for her. Quickly, she took her duffle bag and walked inside her new room. Same flooring. A small twin bed at the center. A standard brown desk aligned storage drawers to her left. A chair came with the set, naturally, and a long white lab-coat rested against the chair, a default item, much like bibles in hotels. A decent-sized dresser in the same shade of Earthy brown with black handles to her right, and an additional door was connected on the same side-- she assumed it leads to the bathroom.

At the very least the walls were a soft, creamy beige.

Letting her hefty bag drop down with a loud thud, the doors closed shut behind her. (Y/n) sighed and trudged over to the desk, which was only a couple steps away. Her living space wasn’t too big, this Foundation wasn’t made for comfort, after-all. Granted, once she brought in her additional items the room would grow into something that gave her warmth and comfort after a long, gruesome day.

“Alright, let's see what we have here” she spoke to no one but herself. Removing the additional items from the clipboard, she examined them briefly: A Level 3 Keycard with a magnetic strip on the back, a stapled packet of the syllabus, SCP file 035-- her brows narrowed at the provided picture, the iconic theater mask resting against a silky, red fabric, grinning widely, almost smug-like.

She flipped through SCP-035’s file and moved onto the next one, considerably shorter than the last, it was clear that additional addendum has been removed, leaving only the description and containment procedures. She would have to speak to her superior about the missing pages.

Her fingers skimmed over the picture provided, the image was dark, making it rather difficult to see the SCP. But she managed to make out the large, curved shape of its silver mask and obsidian hood.

SCP-049, the plague doctor... How morbidly interesting-- yet, terrifying.

(Y/n) placed the files down, she’d simply have to read them in the morning. Driving for three days straight had taken quite the toll on her energy. She kicked off her shoes, not caring to take the time and swap into her sleepwear. She turned off the lights before taking an odd position on the bed.

Though her night was dreamless, sleep had come easy tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I genuinely appreciate your time :) common grammar errors are natural, I always try to catch them but sometimes the most ridiculous ones slip by. I put my works through an editor but if you see something that's absolutely driving you insane, please don't hesitate to ask me to fix it. I'm still working and improving on my writing skills, so suggestions and tips are always welcomed. Please be kind to each other in the comments (if there's any reads at all HHHH) and thank you again and hope to see you soon!


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